


Two of Clubs

by Chromaticism



Series: The Turian Robin Hood [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Flustered Shepard, Frottage, Kissing, Ruthless (Mass Effect), Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromaticism/pseuds/Chromaticism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the kink meme:</p><p>Reply with a prompt old or new involving a rarer femShep pairing and I will fill it. No guarantees on length. I'm partial to femShep/male het pairs, but if there's a femShep/fem pairing that just has to be done, then I'll take a shot at it.</p><p>Since I'm requesting the rarer couples, this excludes Garrus, Kaidan, Liara, Ashley, Miranda, and Jack (unless it's in addition to the main rarepair). I almost never see Tali with femShep, so we'll include her. I'd say no Thane either since he's a main hetero LI, except I really don't see him much on the kink meme so why not.</p><p>Hmm... Shiala, Kal, maybe Nyreen.</p><p>Solana or Rolan Quarn if the A!A is feeling creative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two of Clubs

**Author's Note:**

> I weaved the canon dialogue with some original.
> 
> The basic idea is that Shepard recalls him impersonating someone else, and this emerged from it.
> 
> Also, listen to Rolan's voice on YouTube. BATMAN?  
> Yeah, that voice is pretty sexy...

"We've met before," Shepard said, thankful to be out of range of the transparent sycophants and haughty rich. There was a reason she was a career soldier, and not a politician. It just proved draining for her. Mingling.

She studied the familiar turian carefully. He was barefaced, green eyed and had pale plating. No one she could recall off the top of her head had such features. So where did she know him from? The only barefaced turians she knew were dead. She didn't know _why_ she could recognize him, but there was something about him...

She was good with faces, turians included, so she doubted it was simply a hunch.

"I'd like to think I'd remember meeting the illustrious Commander Shepard," the turian quietly rasped, sinking further back into his recess in the wall. He briefly made eye contact with her before staring into the distance to their left. She followed his gaze to the roulette tables where Ash was talking animatedly to a human woman wearing.. pretty much some strategically placed patches of purple and pink fabric.

She turned back to the enigmatic turian, leaning back on her heels steadily. To think that Liara had tried to convince her to wear flats... Though going by her previous attempts to wear heels, Liara was right to have been worried. It was great that the Cerberus resurrection package came with an incredibly good sense of balance.

She fought the urge to itch the still prone to irritation scarred skin on her neck and spoke, "I'm fairly sure I remember you from somewhere..."

"I'm afraid I do not recall meeting you, Commander," he said.

He continued to stare into the distance and Shepard found herself beginning to grow irritated by his lack of cooperation. She didn't like this op to begin with. Brooks just felt... slimy to her. And everything about this turian felt wrong to her.

What had Garrus said about barefaces?.. Not to be trusted. Dishonourable. And something that her translator had had fits trying to translate, but in all fairness that had been in response to being asked to talk about Sidonis.

Understandable, she supposed.

He didn't have a drink, and was far out of sight of anyone to be mingling. What was he doing over here by the security desk? Scouting marks? In the employ of Khan?

"Interesting. You're not mingling and you're not betting. Tell me, mystery turian, what's your game?" Shepard dryly asked.

That got his attention, his head snapping back to face her almost instantaneously. He was still perfectly unreadable, his static features unfathomable in face of her silent scrutiny. Why couldn't turians be emotionally open like asari and humans. Damn it.

He still seemed familiar despite his remarkable control, even for a turian.

"Game? What isn't a game, Commander? This conversation is a game in itself. You wish to determine who I am, and I wish to retain my anonymity. I recall a quote I read by a human author: "Life is a dream for the wise, a game for the fool, a comedy for the rich, a tragedy for the poor."" He recited.

"And of all the beings in the galaxy, which of us are not fools in some way?" He calmly asked.

She could certainly appreciate that sentiment. Sometimes, despite what others thought of her, she felt like she was leading her crew on a damned goose chase around the galaxy for this Crucible.

She nodded and he ducked his head in what looked like re-estimation before continuing to speak, louder than he was before. Thankfully.

"But my game, Commander?" He drawled, his louder tone making her not have to strain to hear him. "My game is to perhaps reverse the last two lines of that quote."

He was silent for a second, stopping to observe her carefully. It had been a long time since she'd felt such intense scrutiny from someone and it actually felt like it meant something. This turian was interesting. She'd let him continue to think he had the upper hand in this conversation. He may let something slip, doubtful as that was.

"The name's Rolan Quarn. The game, Commander Shepard, is hearts and minds," he explained, leaning forward slightly before falling back into his recess.

A turian Robin Hood, huh? Cultured too, she'd never heard of that quote before.

"Care to elaborate?" She requested, readjusting the red locks of hair tickling the irritated skin on the nape of her neck. Fuck, she should have listened to Chakwas. If acting like a pacifist would have cleared up the scarring, she damn well should have started dropping her guns whenever a firefight began.

"Most people in this casino are here for a good cause. Others are just here to be seen. Phonies, if you will," he began, looking briefly to his left at his marks, she assumed.

"Surely the charity will release the names of those who donated to the press?" Shepard enquired.

Quarn flexed a mandible in disgust and gave her a dark look.

"One of Khan's conditions for making donations in this event is that all of them must be made anonymously. So everyone here, purely by association, will gain the goodwill of the public when most will not offer up a single credit."

"So you plan on taking their money to avoid that from happening?" She asked.

"They have money they won't miss. Others, who are not myself, need it. So the honourable thing to do is to part them from this money," he answered with audible pleasure in his voice and the beginnings of a turian smile on his mandibles.

"I don't remember you being a con man," Shepard teased.

He slightly quirked his head at her, his eyes alight with sardonic humour as he spoke.

"Con men leave their marks angry. Con artists leave them smiling," he said, his drawl alight with humour.

And she remembered. A drawling voice apologizing to her for the head chef's refusal to make another main for her, even after she'd requested one with no sauce in the begin. All those years ago when she was celebrating becoming an N2 with her squad.

 _Forgive me, ma'am, but our head chef has been going through a difficult time recently. It would honour me if you'd allow me to provide you with a free meal to make up for your_ treatment.

He'd had the same eyes, cream coloured markings and slightly darker plating. The sous chef at that high-end asari restaurant on the Citadel!

She was certain that was him.

"You were the sous chef at that asari restaurant on the Citadel," she triumphantly cried, searching her mind for his name, "the name on your nametag was.. Callus? Cattus?"

He was openly smirking at her now, rising upright from his slouched position. He was rather on the short side for a turian, not standing a full foot above her like Garrus, who seemed to be on the tall side, but maybe just over half a foot.

"Cato Petrius actually, Commander. I'm impressed you can remember me, to be honest. I find most humans to have significant difficulty telling my species apart," he commented, his olive-green eyes focussed solely on her, and not on the general revelry to their left like previously. It felt quite a lot like being under examination, strangely enough.

Was he searching her for weakness?

"I've had training in identifying turians. It's mandatory for every N-graduate to be able to identify the microexpressions and general facial identifiers of the Council races. For example, there's NWCMCMCEF for turians."

That doesn't necessarily mean she was good at the former. Turians were damn near inscrutable.

"NWCMCMCEF?" He repeated, looking genuinely interested. His casual recitation back of the mnemonic was likely indicative of his ability to memorise. Classical con skill.

"Nose-Wear-Curvature-Markings-Crest-Mandibles-Colour-Eyes-Fringe," she answered, enjoying the feeling of being the one with the answers for a change.

"Hmm, perhaps you should also consider the brow," he suggested with a minute lift of his own, "they vary between turians in shape, angle and curvature. We have some analogous behaviours to humans if you watch us carefully. For example, a slight dip downwards can indicate seriousness."

That did remind her of the moments where Garrus was acting particularly earnest having lowered brow plates. Maybe you're telling the truth, Robin Hood.

Maybe you're telling the truth.

"Noted. Though, may I add that my knowledge was good enough to figure you out," she pointed out with a slight smirk.

"And it was certainly impressive, Commander," he agreed.

"Pray tell, how did you figure it out?" He asked.

"You drawl and rasp a lot when you speak. Smoker?" She asked, with genuine interest. His voice reminded her of those old vids of Batman before it was remade a couple of years ago.

It was pretty hot, his voice, she admitted to herself.

He shook his head and she continued.

"You have a standard cuboid nose, double slitted with two triangular nostrils. You're somewhat young, low to moderate wear and tear as we'd say, maybe late thirties, early forties. Most of it is focussed around your crest, so definitely mid to late thirties I reckon. You didn't have those claw marks under your eyes last time. Varren?" She playfully asked, to allow herself some time to reassess other significant features.

"An overly amorous turian female, actually." he teased back, a smile quickly appearing then disappearing.

"Continue, Commander," he requested.

"Low curvature around your crest, medium near your mandibles and then there's the large dips in your cheeks; those are unique to you, I think. Markings are irrelevant. Crack running through the middle of your forehead. Your crest is pretty normal. You have standard length mandibles with long double prongs. Hmm.. colour. You were a pale cream before, and now you're a grey white. Not a huge enough change in shade to throw me off. You have olive-green eyes and your fringe is long with a weak curve at the end," she explained.

"Impressive, Commander," he positively purred at her with a nod, his low drawling flange like a jolt in her spine, and pointed to the faint reddish-purple discolorations on his lower face.

"These?" He asked, his expression neutral.

"Burns?" She cautiously asked. From what little she knew of turian culture, she knew that scars weren't regarded well. She'd tried to exercise the one diplomatic bone in her body and not mention it.

"Close. Chemical burns," Rolan calmly said, rubbing the flesh in seeming memory, "the gel used to remove markings is highly basic and strictly regulated. My supplier provided me with some of disputable quality. It was incredibly runny, so it spilled out of the slight depressions of my markings. Quite unfortunate, but it will heal within a couple of weeks. It has helped ensure that I retain my anonymity, and the scars help fit my barefaced persona."

"Silver linings," Shepard commented with a small smile.

"Quite. So, we've established my purpose in being here. Would yours have something to do with the radio in your ear, Shepard?" He asked plainly.

She wasn't at all surprised that he'd seen it. It was just further confirmation of the fact that he was incredibly observant. That brought her back to the fact it had been incredibly quiet on Brooks's end. She was taking a long time.

Hang on, when did she become _Shepard_?

" _Shepard_?" She dully repeated, feeling the waist of her dress hem up in the involuntary fist she'd made at her side.

She smoothed it out, ignoring the humour in his eyes.

"I did not mean to misstep and potentially offend you, Shepard," he said, enunciating her name like it was something sweet, something to relish, "but I insist that you call me Rolan."

And she was a fucking batarian if that was his real name.

"I've never referred to you by any moniker or title," she pointed out, folding her arms in mild annoyance at his.. his flirting? Weren't positions of power firmly respected by turians? But he was a bareface... damn the lack of cultural immersion training the Alliance provided her with.

"Exactly. Call me Rolan, Shepard," he drawled, fixing her with a smirk.

"I'm debating whether I should report you to security," she said, starting to feel annoyed by how easily he could steer the conversation as he saw fit.

"Oh, I like a good debate," he quipped, still the picture of nonchalance against the wall, "and what makes you think they'd ever catch me? I've been doing this for longer than you've been in the military."

So he was older than her estimates, most likely, or he started doing this after his obligatory service. Was he a Hierarchy turian? So many variables...

" _Shepard_ ," he purred.

"Why are you doing that?" She demanded, feeling slightly flustered. The sound of her name, being said with his voice...

No. Professional. Butcher of Torfan. Killer of Saren Arterius.

Stone cold _badass_.

 _Badasses_ didn't feel slightly weak at the knees to have their name said in a voice that should only be used in the bedroom.

Shit.

"To think that Commander Shepard would be so flustered by a random turian flirting with her," he remarked with a quiet chuckle.

"Not many would dare, and those who dare..." she trailed off, completely unable to finish her sentence. Not willing to complete it at least.

Those who dare don't have your smoky, rasping drawl, or the enigmatic aura.

"I'm glad you're willing to make an exception for me, Shepard," he said, crossing his arms and looking up to the ceiling, leaving his fringe in full view. It was like he was posing.

He was so fucking smug.

She'd be smug too if she was a man with his voice.

DAMN IT!

"Would you be so smug if I got you thrown out of here?" She asked, feeling the beginnings of a blush cross her face. Damn her pale skin, damn her red hair.

Damn him especially.

"Possibly. I'd like to see you explain my _wicked motives_ , right after you explain why you have a radio in your ear," he said. The way he'd lingered on 'wicked motives'...

Dear God...

"Wicked motives?" She repeated rather dumbly.

"Wicked motives," he confirmed. She could practically feel the heat his gaze held.

Shepard inhaled deeply.

"Well, since I don't see you turning me in either, I gather you're no friend of Khan's," she said in an empty attempt to try and control the conversation.

He obliged her with a brief, wicked grin. He was just playing with her.

That was the last straw.

"Fuck it," she muttered to herself. Maybe it was the alcohol she'd drank earlier, but there was the general feeling of wanting him to put his money where his mouth was.

Literally.

She yanked him by the collar, pulled him down to her level and planted her mouth on his. There was a brief moment where he was entirely frozen, a slight gasp of hot breath on her lips escaping him, before he pulled her with him into his alcove and opened his mouth, his rough, flexible tongue meeting her own.

They parted moments later, a slight look of dazed surprise on his face and a feeling of absolute triumph on her own.

"That was.. that was unexpected," he said, looking at her in complete disbelief.

"Don't start something you can't finish," she barked, feeling the tangible command in her voice. She was back.  His voice had made her feel so.. it was a good feeling, that she could admit. It was nice to feel like the one being chased, even if it had been in jest. Her brief thing with Garrus had fizzled as quickly as it had began due to them both feeling their friendship was more important. 

Personally, Shepard just felt that he wanted to pursue Tali. He'd certainly moved on fast enough. Perhaps, it was time for her to do the same. With a potentially compulsive lying, smooth-talking con artist though... was that much of a step up from disillusioned ex-vigilante?

She looked at his sly smirk as he regained his sense of equilibrium, his hands slowly pulling her hips into his and rolling his own back into them.

No, it was more of a step down and she didn't give a damn. The bulge in his trousers only emphasized that opinion.

She began sorting out the crumples and wrinkles in her blue dress with brief pats of her right hand, trying to ignore the warm gloved hands still holding onto her hips.

"I'll bear that in mind, Shepard," he drawled, the heat in his eyes undiminished.

So it hadn't been a ploy? She'll be declaring shore leave after this mission then. The crew were long overdue a break.

"In answer to your question," Rolan said, rolling his thumb in slow circles at her hip, "Khan doesn't have friends. Anyone who says otherwise is deluding themselves."

"Truly?" She asked, wrapping an arm around his waist and sighing as he drew her to his chest. "So is Khan part of your game tonight?"

It was just his warmth that made her sigh, that was all. To think she'd take comfort in a con artist's embrace was ludicrous.

"No. I simply shear-- no, what do humans call it? I fleece his guests," Rolan explained, stealing a brief kiss from her when he finished.

"Then there's no harm in telling me what his weaknesses are," Shepard said, cupping his face in her hands before engaging him in a long, toe-curling exchange of saliva. His gloved talons gently trailed through her hair before resting on her shoulders as he met her with his slightly spiced taste.

He parted from her slowly, continuing to peck at her lips as the passion of the kiss wound down.

"I've studied him. He's ruthless and rich, but not very bright. Temperamental. Doesn't deal well with the unexpected," Rolan began, shallowly grinding his groin into her own, "He's also used to letting other people handle things he doesn't understand. Like his security."

That corroborated well with what little intel Brooks had given them.

"That's quite an assessment. Do I owe you anything?" Shepard asked, her hand resting on the underside of his fringe in subtle suggestion.

The resurge of her feeling of triumph when he silently groaned and tilted his head back into her hand was immense. She rewarded him with a teasing graze of her nails against that node of nerves that had always drove Garrus mad.

"Only what you're willing to give me," he growled in that rasping voice.

He shook his head as if to clear it.

"No," he said, contradicting his lustful gaze and roaming hands which now rested firmly on her ass, "we do what we do because there are wrongs that need righting. The wrongs I address are simply pettier than yours."

Somehow that little bit of unexpected nobility coming from him was hotter than she imagined. She showed her appreciation with another kiss, his gloved talons slightly pinching into her ass as he returned her fervour.

"Shepard," Ash said over the comms, her confusion and disgust almost biting, "what are you doing?"

She didn't bother looking over at Ash. Instead she slowly backed away from Rolan's mouth, a brief flash of annoyance going through his eyes before he gave her one last smooch. She could already picture the combination of slight hurt, condemnation and discomfort Ash always seemed to adopt when speaking to her.

Shepard had asked Ash to help her with this mission in an attempt to bridge the gap between them. However, it was getting to the point where Shepard couldn't help but start to wonder whether it was worth even trying. Whilst she was being unprofessional, it was well known amongst the crew she didn't particularly appreciate being criticized, or being on the receiving side of a lecture whilst on duty.

Rolan quietly chuckled, and extended his arms further around her, the surprising give of his light armour proving to be quite comfortable.

"Mingling," she said after deactivating the mute function with a quick flick of her omnitool, "I'm still waiting for Brooks to give the go ahead. So please, Williams, wait for her signal and act natural, because staring at the security entrance in horror isn't natural."

With another flick, she was muted again. Shepard swore rather viciously under her breath.

"Perhaps, we should do this another time," Rolan acquiesced with a slow perusal of himself and her before his arms slowly freed her from his warm embrace.

She already felt cold.

"I'd like that," she readily agreed, already thinking of how his voice would deepen, or how it would feel if he spoke into her skin.

"Enjoy your evening, Shepard," he purred, giving her one last teasing drag of his hand across her waist and hips. He slid something into her hand before standing up completely straight and proceeding to walk off in the direction of the roulette tables.

She checked her hand to find a credit chit from one of the ATMs in the casino for one million credits and then her omnitool suddenly chimed.

_It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Shepard. All I ask, is that you don't look for me. I will look for you at a time that is advantageous to us both. Let the small pleasures come after duty, even if they are as compelling as myself._

_P.S: The credits I have given you are by no means a bribe. The previous entity whom I'd intended to lovingly donate some of the casino's funds to has rejected my aid. I trust that you'll be able to put it to good use._

_Yours,_

_Rolan Quarn_

She'd definitely have Tali check if this thing was legit. How did he get her omnitool ID? Tali had even helped her encrypt it.

Smug son of a -..

She looked up and saw Rolan toasting her from the bar, a slight smirk on his face. An asari she'd previously spoken to, a bubbly young maiden, to his right was trying to grab his attention. Poor girl.

Shepard winked and hurriedly walked back into the main area of the casino as Brooks's voice came over the comms.

Go-time.


End file.
